


like death and flying

by ccauchemar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, Group Therapy, PTSD, allusions to torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccauchemar/pseuds/ccauchemar
Summary: When Talon came back for Widowmaker, Lena had been in the line of fire.She was missing for nearly three weeks.Three very, very long weeks.





	like death and flying

**Author's Note:**

> Fic opens with violence, specifically choking.

Lena came to awareness slowly. Sound was muted, as if through a layer of water. Everything was distant and soft. She couldn’t see very well, either – it was as if her eyes were unfocussed, and the world was a blur of soft browns and light green.

She felt pressure on her shoulder. Someone pulling her backwards. Shaking her. Maybe the yelling, muted and distant, belonged to them?

_Let go of her! Let go!_

Her eyes drifted down. Her arms, outstretched, and a face, underneath her. A person. Long, brown hair. Hands on her hands? The hands from before shaking her shoulders, stronger, as the person underneath her bucked and the voice yelled louder, _Lena, Lena what the fuck,_ and she turned her head to the side to see deep brown eyes lit with worry, umber skin and a _bright green tank top, brighter than the garden_ and her gaze drifted back down her arms, Lúcio panicking in her ear.

“Let go of Hana!! What the fuck are you doing!”

She noticed the hands scrabbling at her wrists, at her hands, clamped around this person’s throat.

Hana. Hana’s throat. _She was choking her best friend Hana Song._

Lena leapt back as if electrocuted, and collided with Lúcio on the floor. A golden orb shot to the injured gamer, surrounding her with a stream of healing light. Zenyatta hovered above her, as still as a statue, servos whirring an ominous hum that betrayed his stress. Another orb flickered deep purple as he hesitated incapacitating his friend for the assault.

Lena stared at Hana, eyes wide, as she coughed and spluttered.

“Lena – what are you _doing_?” Lúcio repeated, unsteadily, as he gripped her shoulders. “What just happened?”

Lena’s jaw trembled as the rest of her was frozen in shock and she stared at Hana, who was equally as horrified and afraid, and shakily pushing herself into a sitting position.

A muted, staticky heat buzzed under Lena’s skin, in the back of her mind, aching.

“I don’t know,” she croaked.

 

 

Overwatch had long been a piece of history. The old Gibraltar Watchpoint had fallen into disrepair, cracks of launchpads and outposts crumbling onto the cliff face, into the sea. Flowers and grasses grew from the demountable units and radio offices. Thick, grey dust had settled on old wall-mounted monitors, and sticky films coated rubber cabling.

But not all the base was decaying. Behind the visible ruins of the Watchpoint, a garden flourished, jutting out of the base like a very large, rounded, terrace balcony. A wide array of flowers bloomed with the bushes and young trees, and they swayed gently in the oceanside breeze. Short grass invited all those who entered to sit in the centre of the garden, bouncy and comfortable. Cacti and succulents stretched upwards out of cheap black plastic pots, stacked on cinderblocks and wooden shoe racks in the deep shade provided by the base’s tall walls. Potatoes, tomatoes, parsley, and squashes thrived in small garden beds, making good use of nearly a quarter of the available space. A green metal watering can sat next to the tap behind the farm, and a frog sticker was stuck to the right of its spout.

In the middle of the grass, in the afternoon shade cast by the base, sat the group of friends. Lúcio still had Lena’s shoulders in a reassuring grip as she took shaky, calming breaths. Hana had recovered after Zenyatta’s intervention, and swallowed, rubbing her throat.

“I apologise,” Zenyatta said, folding his hands together and sinking to the earth. “I should have asked before discussing–”

“No, no, no,” Lena interrupted, gently shrugging Lúcio’s hands off and patting her clammy cheeks. “I- I’m fine. Hana, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Do we need to take you to the med bay?”

Hana laughed and waved her off, but her voice was strained. “Zenny took care of me, Lena, we don’t need to go. Zen, do you remember what you said?”

The omnic nodded. “Word for word. Do you have the blacklist?”

Hana leant back on one hand, casually, and pulled a tiny spiral notebook out of the butt pocket of her pants, waggling it. The front had “BLACKLIST” written on it in messy permanent marker. “Pfftch, of course. Whisper it for me, pretty please?”

Lena looked uneasy as Zenyatta leant close and murmured to Hana.

“Are you okay?” Lúcio asked, studying her face. “I – I know you can’t control the switching, but that was _terrifying_.”

Lena turned around to face him better. “I know, I, I just –” She clenched her fists, and sighed harshly. “I don’t want to do that! I don’t want to do things like that!” Her breath hitched, and her eye twitched as she got progressively louder. “I don’t want to HURT her! I don’t want to hurt you! What if I snap again! What if you can’t snap me out of it! What if Zen’s not there!!”

“Lena! Lena, relax,” Hana said, soothing, putting the notepad back in her pocket. “Group therapy sessions are fine, we all come into them expecting a lot. And sometimes we get triggered. That’s PTSD for you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Guess you’ve got a _hair trigger_ reflex, though. Haha.”

“Hana, that’s not funny,” Lúcio said.

Hana looked sheepish. “Sorry, I thought it was appropriate. I’ll joke about myself next time.”

“You just got _choked_.”

“I’ve lived through worse, Luce!”

“Perhaps I can get in contact with Genji, if you would like one on one anger management therapy, Lena,” Zenyatta interjected. The air was tense and uncomfortable.

“T…Tracer,” she mumbled, “I’m feelin’ like Tracer right now. But yeah. Thank you.”

Zenyatta nodded. “Tracer. Anger management will help you. Finding healthy outlets for the pain you felt, and still feel. I can call him back to the base… I hope you two could get along.”

Tracer nodded, and sighed. “That’d be lovely, love. I’m sure we will. I really appreciate it.”

Hana looked down at the ground, eyes dark, and cleared her throat. “I’m gonna go see if there’s anything for dinner. If Angela wants to come out of the _old farts fort_ then maybe she can help me, but-” She huffed as she pushed herself to her feet “-I’m out. See you later, nerds.”

Two factions – the old strike team and the younger generation – kept a tentative peace in the parts of the facility that still worked.

Zenyatta watched her go, and looked down at the others.

“I’ll stay with Trace,” Lúcio said, patting her shoulder. “She could use some company.”

Zenyatta nodded, gently floating a foot off the ground. “I will leave you two alone, and make sure Hana stays in good health. Spend as long as you need up here, but I will return in two hours.”

“Thanks Zenny,” Tracer said, and waved weakly.

There was a minute of silence after he left. Lúcio sat on the grass with Tracer. The Gibraltar sea breeze caressed the leaves overhead, their gentle swish and the distant crash of waves lending sound to the silence.

The staticky feeling still clung to the edges of her mind. Aching, begging to be noticed. Like an itch that only undivided attention could scratch. A cold, dark, shadow of a thing, a permanent twisting of her rage, nestled in the scattered and fragmented remnants of her memories. _Violence is the answer. Give in to this._

She fidgeted with the grass.

“Hey,” Lúcio eventually said. “Come walk with me. Let’s get a look at the ocean.”

Tracer broke a blade of grass between her fingers, and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, that… That sounds like a good idea. That sounds like a good idea.”

The railing was thick concrete, and dropped directly away to the rocks below. The ocean was a good few more boulders below where the wall ended, but you could still see the spray and swirl of the waves against the shore from where they were standing above.

Tracer stared at the sparkling sunlight reflecting off the water, and crushed the blade of grass.

“Do you remember what it was this time?” Lúcio asked.

Tracer shook her head. “I really don’t. It was like waking up from a dream… into a more messed up dream.”

Lúcio drew his brows together. “How’s your neck?”

Tracer ran her fingers through her hair, and across the thin, nearly invisible scars at the nape of her neck. Across the tiny nodes behind her right ear, at the base of her skull.

“They did a shoddy job,” she said, bitterly.

“Trace – it’s really neat scarring. It healed really well.”

“I meant my brain, Luce,” she said tiredly. “They tore me apart and didn’t put me back together. It’s even _worse_ than the bloody Slipstream. The nodes were only so they could get into my brain with minimal physical interference, of course they healed well. They knew better after – after –” her voice shook, and she inhaled shakily. “They knew better after Widow, and-”

“Shh, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay, hey. It’s okay, I promise,” Lúcio said, pulling her close by the shoulders.

“I miss her,” Tracer cried, banging her fist on the railing. “It’s not fair! She got me out! She got me out, and she couldn’t even – _couldn’t even_ –” Her voice dropped to a growling baritone.

Lúcio held her close. “Stay with me,” he said. “Don’t get lost in it. Please.”

Tracer forced deep breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth, willing her limbs to relax. The nervous energy refused to dissipate, and it exploded out of her in a wail.

When Talon came back for Widowmaker, Lena had been in the line of fire.

She was missing for nearly three weeks.

Three very, very long weeks.

Lúcio pulled her back into a hug, and Lena, Tracer, clung to him. He and Hana had been the only ones to try looking for her in that time. The only ones to ask. Her best friends.

There was a reason none of them spoke to the old members of Overwatch.

Lena’s sobbing slowly died down, and she leaned on her friend, drained. She sniffed and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Thanks, Luce,” she warbled, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Pfftch, it’s nothing,” he said airily, pulling her head into his shoulder and stroking her hair. “You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I give you a good hug once in a while?”

Lena looked up at him, and made a face. “You’re tryin’ to be upbeat again, froggo. I can tell, you know.”

“Who, _me?”_ Lúcio exclaimed. He put a hand on his chest. “I have no idea _what_ you are talking about!”

Lena giggled. He grinned.

“Just me, your tiny frog pal with wall-ridin’ legs of pure bouncing power. Look out world! Lúcio Correia dos Santos is here and he’s pickin’ up Tracer Oxton with both hands! Ready to ride into combat! Ready to br-br-br-br-break it _dooooown!”_

Lena was laughing, trying to hide her snorting with the back of her hand, and he grinned.

“ _That’s_ my happy Oxton. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah- yeah,” Lena said, “Feelin’ a bit like Lena again, but still somewhere in the middle, y’know? So basically back to my new normal.”

Lúcio nodded, and ruffled her hair. “As long as you’re stable, buddy. Breakdowns are okay.”

“Oh, let’s break _down_ ,” Lena said suddenly, bemused and teasing.

Lúcio made a bark of a laugh. “You’re stealing my puns!”

Lena laughed tiredly, and lightly punched his shoulder. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? We can drag Hana into it with popcorn.”

Lúcio nodded. “That sounds like an _excellent_ idea. Quiet evening?”

“Quiet evening,” Lena nodded, and leant her head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of hers.

The dark, staticky feeling lurked, deep in the back of Lena’s mind, waiting.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the lack of progress on _Mémoire_ , it's incredibly difficult trying to organise it after I spent so long typing the first things to come to mind. I'm working on the last few entries all at once, and they're each going to be quite long. Thank you for your patience and understanding.


End file.
